His Embrace
by JuniperGentle
Summary: The first time was a dream. The second was a nightmare. An exploration of physical contact between Kai and Tyson in G-Revolutions.


_Yay for another quasi-angsty-friendship piece between Tyson and Kai!_

 _So rumour has it that today is Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day, so my celebration was two-fold. First, going off and hunting out all my old favourites that I never reviewed and actually TELLING the author that I thought their work was incredible (I am very bad at doing this)._

 _And second, appreciation to the fanfiction writers who are ALSO my wonderful reviewers - I have been a terrible writer this year and haven't actually posted anything since January 1st (mostly because of my Masters, which is soon coming to an end I promise), and so as a peace offering I've written something that is very me: quasi-angst, friendship, hugs, character study, perhaps somewhat purple-prose-y, coming from my first proper writing fandom, my favourite season, canon-expansion..._

 _Enjoy! And go tell your favourite fanfiction writers how much you appreciate their work! Trust me, it'll make them very happy._

* * *

 **His Embrace**

The first time was a dream

It had been one of the worst days of my life. I was lost in the forest with a team-mate I didn't want, hungry, cold, tired, miserable. I felt betrayed by every single one of my friends – and the only one who had not forsaken me, I had betrayed _him_ by choosing a stranger to be my partner instead of my best friend.

I had been betrayed by the last mainstay in my life.

The last of the Blade-breakers was gone.

I couldn't be the Blade-breakers on my own, however good I was. Team Blade-breakers was well and truly over. That's why I picked Daichi over Kenny, you see. A new beginning for a revolutionary new team. The BBA Revolution.

But it was _you_ I wanted to blade with, you I wanted to be standing by when I lifted the cup for the third successive year (of course I was going to win. You'd be with me. How could we _not_ win?)

No wonder I was dreaming of it. The thought filled every waking moment; why not every sleeping one?

I wanted you to be proud of me, openly, plainly proud of me in a way that my conscious mind knew was so unlike you that it was laughable. I wanted to impress you, the way you'd impressed me for two long, awesome years. I wanted you to confirm what I probably knew and secretly hoped all along – that though _I_ was the one with the two titles, _you_ thought I was good enough to have earned them.

I needed your support to get through the coming contest. Hiro had already accused me of that much and I knew it was true. I relied on your ability to get out of the tightest scrapes in order to give us the wins we needed to get me to the top once more, still relying on your skills and talents far more than my own. Without you, I wouldn't have either of my two titles.

I wanted you to show me that support.

So there we were, stuck in the forest overnight, literally under canvas. And I was trying so hard to go to sleep, and Daichi was snoring so loudly, and I was cold and I was angry at you and everything else that I'd put up with that day and I just wanted to block it out for a while.

Dreams are funny things. I heard someone say once that they are formed by the subconscious sorting out problems that we haven't managed to fix in real life, giving us a safe place to practice all possible responses.

If that's true, maybe it's not so surprising that I dreamt after such a day. Dreamt I was winning for the third time, dreamt everyone was cheering for me, dreamt that you were – and this was the one weird, inexplicable bit that made me _sure_ I was dreaming – vocally, visibly, physically supporting me.

" _I couldn't be more proud of you."_

I so desperately wanted you to be proud of me. In the two years I'd known you, you'd done incredible things. Some things seemed physically impossible to me and you just _did_ them. Hitting cans and getting them to stack up perfectly in a pyramid. Smashing through a tree at least two feet in diameter _without_ Dranzer's power. Forcing yourself to face a bit-beast so powerful that Dranzer was nearly destroyed and you nearly killed, holding on just long enough to make the other become visible.

Resisting Black Dranzer. Defying your family – your grandfather.

All through, you'd been captain and coach, and the epitome of the phrase "actions speak louder than words". You'd bought us victories that we couldn't survive without, sometimes at a terrible, never-mentioned cost to yourself.

But all through silent, save for an occasional "Hm" or "Get lost". Not even "That was rubbish, Tyson. Do it again."

Always, always training.

I resented you for it at the same time as I knew it was just your way. But... but it would have been nice, just once, to hear you _say_ that you didn't mind being in our little group.

" _I couldn't be more proud of you._ "

I wanted you to be the ideal captain, strict enough to keep us in control, but also complimentary where deserved. It took me far too long to realise that you could never be that. It just wasn't in your nature.

You were Kai. That was all. And even in my dreams, I knew that the version of you who complimented my abilities, who visibly, vocally supported me in front of the whole world, was not Kai.

.

The second time was a nightmare.

You were victorious, even smiling. It was the perfect end to the most epic battle I'd ever seen, and I was so fired up by your victory that I just _knew_ I could beat my opponent easily. Quite apart from the fact that if I lost it would mean that your victory would have been worthless. Quite apart from the fact that the loss would destroy the beyblading world as I knew and loved it. No, it was your spirit, your unquenchable fire that lit my own desire and need to win at all costs.

In that moment, you were the king of my whole world.

Then came the sudden glaze in your eyes, the slight stumble... and the slow collapse straight into my arms.

I'd dreamt long before that you'd hugged me to show your physical, visible support for me. Now here you were, trying so hard to regain your balance to save the remaining scraps of your dignity as our friends gathered around, but still hanging on to _my_ support because otherwise you would have collapsed to the floor and your pride would not allow that.

I was becoming familiar with the feeling of fear seeping through my blood on the tail of adrenaline. Your breathing was so shallow, and I wasn't sure if the dampness I could feel seeping through your shirt was sweat or _blood._ Something was very wrong. You'd never fallen like this, not even at the Beyblade World Championship Finals. There was something shattered in you, cracks creeping from your heart to the surface, and I was pretty certain that in this long, petrifying moment, _I_ was the thing holding the crumbling remains of your spirit and soul together.

And I realised something, very suddenly. Or perhaps it was several somethings.

The embrace in the dream and this almost instinctive clinging now were the same.

I'd wanted you to visibly show your support of me. You'd already done that, simply by appearing the day before down by the river at sunset.

I needed your support to get through. And you had – even in the Championships. If you hadn't left, and I hadn't had to team up with young Daichi, I know I'd never have become a leader strong enough to challenge Boris head on as I was doing right now. That would have been your job, especially given your history, so I'd have left all the details and keeping everyone together and training and stuff to you. But you'd supported me by trusting me enough to take your place on the team, and it was that which had got me to where I was now.

I wanted you to be proud of me. And something in your eyes as you finally straightened up told me that you were – that I'd met your expectations and surpassed them, even before I had my battle.

But at the same time, you wanted to know if I was proud of _you._ The uncertainty in your face was so unusual, but it was unmistakable. You'd never asked for approval, and you never would, but you wanted it.

And I _was_ proud of you, so very proud _._ I didn't know how to say it then, couldn't articulate the storm of triumph and pride and joy in any other way than demanding a battle with you, because I may be a chatterbox but I've always spoken best through a beybattle.

You, my friend, my comrade and finally my team-mate again, had destroyed the indestructible, broken the unbreakable, beaten the unbeatable, all because you were willing to support me physically, visibly, vocally.

All because you were willing to survive a fight that by all rights you should have lost.


End file.
